


wingman.

by shariling



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pining, courfeyrac being a bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shariling/pseuds/shariling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who should I talk to?"</p>
<p>"Who, indeed! Could it be, by any chance, the man you've been eyeing up and down, like detailed map of France herself?" Enjolras scoffs loudly, and Courfeyrac can only chuckle - swiveling in his chair with ease and speed, to face the general direction of their friendly drunken fellow. "Grantaire! Come here for a second."</p>
            </blockquote>





	wingman.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was enjolras&courfeyrac, wingman
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr!](http://enjolrased.tumblr.com/)

" _Ugh_ , just _talk_ to him already."

"What?"

Today is one of the rare days that the Friends have managed to convince Enjolras for an evening out - out of his apartment _and_ out of the Musain, for a night of good old fashioned _fun_. Tactics used may have included Courfeyrac tickling him into submission, and Combeferre confiscating his laptop, saying _a paper due in two months can wait another night._ But the point is that he's here _now_ , and eyeing a certain drunk in the corner of the room rather obviously, letting his eyes skirt over whenever he pretends to take a large gulp of whatever drinks he's been given. Courfeyrac, ever the prophet and saint of all things romance and Enjolras-related, noticed at the first glance.

At this point, it's grown disgusting. Because when Enjolras isn't looking at Grantaire, Grantaire is looking this way, and _how_ did he manage to obtain such _nerds_ for friends.

"You heard me," Courfeyrac says, taking a swing from his beer, raising his eyebrows at the blonde in question.

"I did, I just didn't understand," Enjolras shakes his head, but Courfeyrac _swears_ he sees pink on his cheeks. Their Apollo, caught red handed. "Who should I talk to?"

"Who, indeed! Could it be, by any chance, the man you've been eyeing up and down, like detailed map of France herself?" Enjolras scoffs loudly, and Courfeyrac can only chuckle - swiveling in his chair with ease and speed, to face the general direction of their friendly drunken fellow. "Grantaire! Come here for a second."

Thankfully the only hint of abuse Enjolras has time to give is a hard punch to Courfeyrac's shoulder, before Grantaire walks with surprising grace over towards them, grinning impishly. Enjolras averts his eyes in an angry sort of way - thankfully, Grantaire is used enough to his Apollo's cold gaze, that it doesn't manage to hurt anymore.

At least, not too bad.

"What can I do you for?"

" _Enjolras_ , was actually just saying the most interesting thing," Courfeyrac makes a dramatic gesture to their pouty friend, and if looks could kill he'd be shot down from the one Enjolras gives him ( though, really, he'd have been killed _long_ ago, if he's being honest ). "About one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I was curious about your thoughts."

"'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?'," Grantaire quotes with emphasis, winking at Enjolras in a way that makes his cheeks flare up - Grantaire takes it to be anger, but Courfeyrac knows it to be affection. "I didn't take you for the kind to enjoy poetry?"

Enjorlas opens his mouth, but Courfeyrac speaks before he gets the chance.

"Oh, he loves it! Isn't that right?" Rhetorical, naturally, and he keeps going. "He has a copy of _Hamlet_ at his house - and others too. _Macbeth_ is a favorite of his."

" _Macbeth_ is a perfect tale of what happens to people with misplaced ambition," Enjolras finally interrupts, defensively.

"Or too _much_ ambition. Not necessarily misplaced," Grantaire retorts.

"Yes, _but_ \- "

Courfeyrac takes this as his cue to slip out unnoticed, while the two of them carry on, debating something or another, while taking millimeter steps in closer to each other.

They argue all night. Stepping in slowly, until they're pressed up against each other, hips aligned with hips, mouths on mouths.

Enjolras _definitely_ owes him one.


End file.
